


Sett

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Angst, Challenge Response, Community: watsons_woes, Drug Use, Gen, Inspired by Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pray, what remains for you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sett

Holmes has vanished for the third time since his marriage and Watson practically swims across town to find him. Well, that's not strictly true, as _finding_ implies that there was much of a hunt to begin with. But wounded animals have their holes to which they retreat when they are in pain, and a patient and observant hunter knows them all.

Watson knows his Holmes.

At the moment, of course, Watson curses his Holmes. What sane, rational man leaves the cosy warmth of hearth and home, a savory supper, a good book, a well-filled briar, a smoky brandy, and a soft bed – shared, every bit of it, with the most wonderful woman in the world – all to brave the downpour raging outside this haven? But the telephone had rung – wretched thing, if only it were not so dashed convenient for doctors – and Mrs Hudson's worried voice on the other end had let John Watson know what had happened before she'd finished speaking. Mary's face had fallen, surely a mirror image of his own expression. For a moment he'd contemplated _lying_ to her, saying he was going out to tend to a patient, but caught himself. No, this was his albatross and he'd wear it. "He's done it again."

"He really does need a doctor, dear," Mary said.

"How well I know it," he'd replied grimly. "He'd be better off with a Viennese specialist, but for now I'm all he's got."

The April rain is positively diluvian, and even in his greatcoat under an impressive umbrella Watson can feel the cold and the wet in the minute it took for him to cross the street and flag down a cab, its horse steaming in the downpour, and give directions to the apprehensive cabbie. "And you will wait where I leave you," he says in his fiercest soldier-voice. "It shan't take long."

One positive effect of the deluge is that it severely curtails the worst kind of street crime in the lowest alleys and dives; even the most depraved criminals huddle out of the wet (a good deal wiser than two other men he could name). Indoor crime is another matter, and he is no fool; he's brought his revolver as well as his umbrella, for he is at the docks.

Holmes is not lost; Watson knows exactly where to find him. The first time had been for a case. Not these last three times.

The doorway of the establishment is set far back from the alley entrance; when Watson knocks, a familiar brown face is at the door when it opens. The Lascar's face is set, but there is no surprise nor apprehension. "Dr. Watson," he says.

"Ahmed," Watson replies in the same way.

With no other words the proprietor of the house lets Watson in to reclaim his friend.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For the [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=watsons_woes)[](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=watsons_woes)**watsons_woes** 2012 July Writing Prompt #2 (July 18), this picture:


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